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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28910214">Mind Over the Immaterial</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProphetessMinty/pseuds/ProphetessMinty'>ProphetessMinty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Dawning 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Destiny (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cayde-6's death mentioned, Comic: Destiny 2: Fall of Osiris, Day 5: Nightmare before Dawn, Destcember 2020, Destiny | Forsaken, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Lore Tab | They're Not Coming, Mild Shipping &amp; Receiving, Nightmares, Savathun's Song, The Dawning (Destiny)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:26:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,851</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28910214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProphetessMinty/pseuds/ProphetessMinty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ikora is struggling to get a good night's rest as her unconscious mind is trying to make headway in sorting through unresolved stressors in her life. Rather than talking it out with a friend, she works to push through it on her own. However, no amount of "toughing it out" is making a dent in her situation and it has not gone unnoticed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ikora Rey &amp; Zavala</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Dawning 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076669</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mind Over the Immaterial</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I do not own Destiny or any part of the franchise; all rights and ownership belong to Bungie.</p>
<p>A/N: Remember the "creepy story time" missions? This is kind of the same feel as that. It's what I envisioned when I wrote this, but definitely tweaked it to be more fantastical since Ikora is a Warlock. Anyhow, hope this is to your liking.</p>
<p>Enjoy!</p>
<p>~ProphetessMinty</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Mind Over the Immaterial</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>When Ikora opened her brown eyes, a nebulous stellar nursery swathed in amethyst hues enveloped her as if claiming her like one of its many celestial bodies. Nothing stirred within this vacuum bubble, all was at standstill, as if frozen in time and place. Though the area was brightly lit, a source of light all on its own, it was not a harsh environment. It was rather warm and vibrant. Particles of dust and elemental gasses that had billowed outward before her dreamy ingress stood like billowing walls. </p>
<p>Somewhere beyond the dense regions of molecular clouds was the unforgivingly cold vacuum of deep space. Though Ikora was unsure how she knew this, she understood the surge of fear and excitement coursing through her veins. Placing a hand on her chest, an unspoken sign of self-preservation, Ikora grasped the medallion hanging from her neck. She could not feel the weight of it, nor the circular shape that should have pressed against the palm of her hand. It was a subtle and gentle reminder that all was not as it seemed. She was merely existing in this realm of altered consciousness, uninhibited by the outside world and its hounding pressures. </p>
<p>She could be anything here in the land of dreamy suspension.</p>
<p>It was even fit for a Warlock—such as herself—to meditate.</p>
<p>Taking one curious step forward, Ikora found that the ground beneath her feet billowed away like rolling fog. As she focused her root beer gaze to the floor, she watched as the clouds parted and revealed a road of twinkling, faraway stars underneath. In the blink of an eye, Ikora watched as a shooting star hurtled forward in a straight line beneath her feet and exploded in a flash about forty feet away. As it did this, statues of light appeared up from the starry road as if formed together with nebulous constellations. Their phantasmal figures reminded her of something, but Ikora could not quite place it. A memory tried to resurface, tickling her forethought with fuzzy recall.</p>
<p>Running forward, Ikora blinked ahead, skipping through reality until she found the first figures within her reach. One was small and womanly, almost young seeming, despite the long robes and confident stance. She seemed to be reaching out toward her companion with the skirts of her robe frozen in midair. They were a tall and masculine projection with an almost bird-like head, caught in an immobile stride. </p>
<p>
  <em>"Osiris, please, I insist that you talk to them—your followers, the Vanguard, and the Consensus. All of them. If you simply took a moment of time and truly invested in them, we could clarify these matters. Perhaps, we can convince them to seek the truth on their own," Ikora's voice spoke with reason.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"This is absurd, Ikora. No amount of deliberation will fix this predicament and you know it! I have indulged in these—fanatics—for far too long and it has proved disastrous. My words have been twisted like tree roots," Osiris barked. "There is only one way to shut the mouths of my dearest scoffers and mockers. Since political figureheads never cease their noisome soliloquies, I will resolve these issues by pursuing research and cold, hard facts. I must write down my findings. Then and only then, will they see."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"That is not how this works, Osiris. When will it stop? Not everyone will crack open a textbook and be 'enlightened'," Ikora huffed. "True communication starts with an honest conversation."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Osiris laughed humorlessly before casting a sardonic remark, "What, like the one we are having currently? Should we stoop so low as to allow shouting matches in our midst? No. I will go about my research as I intend to do so. I'm not going off on some Holy Crusade, this is a war against the Darkness itself. The Vex must be stopped."</em>
</p>
<p><em>"Think for just one moment!" Ikora yelled. </em>Her present-self jumped, startled at the unbridled outrage and confusion. This very conversation had led to Osiris' exile from the Tower, the City, and eventually all humanity. His absence was like the sun being eclipsed by dense storm clouds leaving behind grey monotony as the rain poured. Had she known then what she did now, Ikora would have prepared for the torrent and the aftermath.<em> “Anything you would record will be considered as scripture. Your followers are already selling your works as prophecies—"</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"Don't say it!" Osiris yelled over his shoulder.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"This—this is madness!" Ikora's voice echoed. "If you don't take a stand today, then the Consensus will find you guilty."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"They already do!" Osiris yelled indignantly. "The Speaker, speaks; and the Consensus, consents. This little tribunal is merely for formality's sake. The race has been fixed from the start as there is already a predetermined result."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"No!" Ikora rejected. "I will not allow this to happen!"</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Ikora! Grow up!" Osiris barked, "There is nothing you can do. You cannot save everyone. It is impractical." </em>
</p>
<p>Ikora peddled away from the apparitions, disturbed to remember one of the worst moments of her life. As she turned to leave, another set of figures—four in total—appeared in front of her. The phantasmal figure of a woman stood in front of a long table with a greyed out figure on top. They seemed to be covered, though the shroud that laid them to rest looked like a blanket of stars. On either side of the woman were two others and a feeling of dread washed over Ikora, tears threatening to form in her eyes.</p>
<p>
  <em>"None of this, Guardian, is your fault. We should have been there. We should have done more. Yet, the past is behind us, and we cannot rewrite what has already happened," Ikora's voice wavered with anger and sorrow. "We must come together, unite as one. Every Hunter. Every Titan. Every Warlock. We must determine our future in one accord and storm the Reef. We will turn over every rock and search every asteroid if we must. Whatever it takes, find the one responsible for this. Find Uldren Sov and take him out. An 'eye for an eye' as the saying goes."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Let's do this. For our fireteam. For Cayde," Ikora encouraged.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"No," Zavala's deep voice refused.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"What did you say?" Ikora asked, suddenly disturbed. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"We are not an army equipped for vengeance," Zavala's voice began. "Nor should we start. We are Guardians."</em>
</p>
<p>As the Commander of the Vanguard led into his speech, Ikora ran straight through the memory and down the starry road. The spectral projections dispersed like fog, undulating in misty tidal waves until they were no more. The Warlock blinked in and out of view, hoping that with every stomp these nightmarish memories would dissolve away, and she would wake. Yet, no matter how labored her breaths or desperate she was to arise out of slumber, she was trapped here. A prisoner to terrible moments of loss and regret in her life. </p>
<p>"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" she yelled at herself. "This is not real. This is not possible."</p>
<p>As she came to the end of the road, Ikora tripped over her boots and plummeted down into a black abyss. Twisting and turning, she grabbed uselessly for anything and everything, but there was nothing. It was like she was tumbling into the void pockets of space, awaiting dematerialization inside the event horizon of a black hole. </p>
<p>Ikora waited expectantly for pain—for death—yet her life had not ceased.</p>
<p>Before her inner dialogue could make a peep, the Warlock found herself standing upright in the dark. Panic sprung forth and Ikora extended her hands forward, working diligently to not be petrified with fear of the unknown. Desperately, she called to the Light, begging for luminance and a glimpse of hope. Just as despair was closing in, Ikora felt the raw power of the Traveler spark and erupt in her hands. A white glow enveloped the palms of her hands, warm and gentle like a sunny afternoon. Ikora quickly grabbed hold of it, not willing to let the Light snuff out. Though she would have summoned solar Dawn, the Warlock had an inkling that this moment was not entirely of her making.</p>
<p>
  <em>Hm. Hmm. Hmmm. Hmmm.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hm. Hmm. Hmmm. Hmmm.  </em>
</p>
<p>Ikora jumped, startled at the unexpected sound that sung in her ears. </p>
<p>"Hello?" She called. "Who's there?"</p>
<p>
  <em>Hm. Hmm. Hmmm. Hmmm.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hm. Hmm. Hmmm. Hmmm.  </em>
</p>
<p>"Where are you?" Ikora called. "I can't see you." The voice continued on without a hitch, unhindered and undeterred by her questions. Ikora took several steps forward as she tried to figure out the location of the crudely hummed melody. "Hello?" Unable to determine where the sound came from, Ikora stopped walking and listened carefully. </p>
<p>Very gradually, the song lifted off into a foreboding crescendo followed by echoing footsteps. Just as Ikora turned, the footsteps ceased, and she found Zavala staring back at her. The Traveler's Light which the Warlock held on to for dear life, exposed a terrible sickness that was festering inside the Commander. The Awoken's natural, blue aura had been sapped and in its place were inky black veins pulsing beneath his pale epidermis. His eyes were as black as this pit while miasmic tears ran down his cheeks.</p>
<p>Grabbing hold of her wrists like iron shackles, Zavala leaned forward and mouthed: <em>Save me.</em></p>
<p>Ikora screamed just as the Light flickered out and jolted upright in her lounging chair. As panic jarred her senses into overdrive, adrenaline pounding her heart like a drum, Ikora fought to breathe. Her root beer eyes looked all around and beheld her private garden; a medium-sized walkout terrace on the inner wall of the Tower. Her nostrils filled with sage and lavender, intermingled with a dense incense that wafted out from her office door. Ikora brought her hand to her chest to clutch the medallion hanging there. She was comforted to feel its full weight and shaped contours, lending further confirmation that she had indeed returned to reality.</p>
<p>As her breaths deepened, hitching less with labor, Ikora looked to the skies. It was a clear and cloudless twilight morn, the sun threatening to rise from somewhere beyond the eastern horizon with golden glory. With no moon in sight, Ikora deduced it was dawn, somewhere between five and six, and somehow knowing this small detail brought a sense of peace to her. Perhaps, it was because she was no longer in a timeless abyss with the phantoms of things that were or were not. </p>
<p>Sighing, Ikora drew her bare knees up to her chest and pulled her sleeping robe tight around herself. Purple fleece wrapped her bare legs as she hugged them for support, her head resting forward. A winter chill hung in the air, stinging her skin but she did not mind. It was a harsh and sharp reminder that she was back in the realm of consciousness with complete awareness and self-imposed control. </p>
<p>Ikora rolled her head to the side and her eyes glimpsed the empty cup of tea she had made herself around midnight. The porcelain was on its side, one last drop of her sleeping remedy—an herbal brew—begging to spill out. Just as she reached out for the precious vessel, the sliding door to her office opened and closed, squeaking along the track. </p>
<p>"What are you doing out here, dressed like <em>that</em>, this early in the morning, Ikora?" a gentle and gravelly voice asked.</p>
<p>Ikora immediately retracted her hand as she sat upright with her usual proper grace, trying to hide the burgeoning embarrassment that warmed her face. "What does it seem like, Zavala?" she mumbled. The Commander said nothing, but even without looking she could picture the arc of his brow in her mind's eye clear as day. She was unsure what was worse, her unprofessional attire or the fact that she had been caught in a vulnerable moment. </p>
<p>"It seems you have been spending many a sleepless night here," Zavala sighed as he sat down next to her. "What is...bothering you?"</p>
<p>Ikora closed her eyes at the memory of Zavala’s tormented countenance from her nightmare. Not willing to lie, she said, "I have been unsuccessful in catching a modicum of peaceful rest." It was the same nightmare before dawn for the last two weeks that had kept her awake. Replaying itself, over and over. Its messages were similar, slightly varied, but with the same ending. Ikora kept working to decode its secret message, the one her unconscious mind believed was there. "I decided if I was going to be up late at night anyways, I might as well work. However, my sleeping aid seemed to have knocked me out last night."</p>
<p>"Sleeping aid or exhaustion?" Zavala asked, chuckling half-heartedly. </p>
<p>Ikora said nothing.</p>
<p>"Look. I know things have been...strained...between us," the Titan began awkwardly. "However, you're still my closest friend and confidant. Whatever you're facing, we can weather it together; you don't have to go it alone."</p>
<p>Ikora's face burned, her embarrassment and sudden elation rising in tandem with her deep appreciation for his concern. Unwilling to be honest with herself, Ikora fiddled with the belief that these unintentional foibles were merely momentary. Just reactional. They meant nothing more or at least...that is what she wanted to believe. These internal lies were becoming harder to juggle, her broken heart wanting to latch onto his compassion, but she was convinced the feelings would go unrequited.</p>
<p>Ikora thought again of the visions and spectral events of her recurring nightmare. Perhaps a lesson that could be gleaned from the unwarranted meditation was the importance of holding onto the people closest to her. Not with obsessive idolism as with Osiris, but with support and temperance in order to prevent what she had seen in the nightmare-Zavala. And perhaps to hold onto them for something more—</p>
<p>“<em>No</em>,” Ikora stopped herself, “<em>surely he only sees our friendship. He wouldn’t think there’s room for more.</em>”</p>
<p>"I...uh...brought you something," Zavala said after a moment. Ikora side-glanced at him with surprise momentarily before inspecting the hot coffee and donuts wrapped up on a small plate. "I got them from Eva, freshly made, on my way here. I know they're your favorite."</p>
<p>Ikora reached out and gently took his humble offering with a quiet nod. Unwrapping the plate, she grabbed a glazed doughball and popped it into her mouth. As she chewed, Ikora worked to maintain a faux-calm she did not feel. Her heart was racing, a smile threatening to dance on her lips. She felt delightedly happy, but outwardly she appeared stoic and unchanged. Extending the plate toward Zavala, she wiggled it for a moment, and watched as he grabbed one for himself.</p>
<p>As Zavala took a bite of his donut, Ikora put the plate on the ground between them and looked out on the blossoming horizon. The sky was a mix of navy, gold, and indigo with some hues of orange and raspberry intermingled within. Subconsciously, Ikora reached out for another donut, her hand patting around until she found the plate. As she went to grab her pastry, a large, warm hand grasped her own. A jolt of electricity shot up through her arm, and she flinched.</p>
<p>Ikora looked over at Zavala, his eyes intent on studying her as she could no longer hide the blush on her face. He said nothing. She said nothing. They stayed there for a while; their hands entwined. For as long as they were there, a little hope sprung forth and the dam of her reserve began to crack. </p>
<p>Zavala cleared his throat, his right hand over his mouth, as he said, “I’ve thought back to our conversation in my office from a while back. The day you supported me even though my efforts to unite our forces was a total flop. A lot has gone wrong since then. Entire planets are missing. There’s a long list of people missing in action. I’ve never felt so defeated in my life. Yet, despite all these problems, maybe you were right. The one good thing the Traveler did for us was bring us together. ”</p>
<p>Ikora marveled at the commander’s words, obviously stunned by his bold candor. He hardly ever spoke of things outside of war and Vanguard duty. As if to reassure her, Zavala squeezed her hand, his grip firm but tender.</p>
<p>“Zavala, I—” she began, but trailed off.</p>
<p>“I know,” he murmured, his blue eyes flicking to the ground. “Let’s just stay here for a moment. Just us, not two members of the Vanguard. I don’t know when we’ll have a moment like this again.”</p>
<p>Ikora nodded, knowing very well how it felt to place personal feelings aside and pursue the good of others first. Though it was a virtuous thing to do, it was also hard to suppress that human desire for connection. Perhaps, there was more hope in the galaxy than the Darkness would have humanity believe. Perhaps, there <em>was</em> room for more.  </p>
<p>Squeezing his hand tightly, Ikora held on like she did the Light, and she glimpsed hope.</p>
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